


Speedy Delivery

by Marzos



Category: All For One (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, also flower shop kind of?, bike courier AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6432214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzos/pseuds/Marzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After too many late deliveries, Dorothy's boss gives her an ultimatum; either deliver this next order of flowers on time, or she's fired. The customer, Alex Silleg, has a reputation for refusing to pay for late deliveries. </p><p>Well, Dorothy Castlemore was going to make the delivery or die trying.</p><p>(Dorlex bike courier AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speedy Delivery

“Please explain why you were late.”

 

“Treville, I--”

 

“ _Again,_ Miss Castlemore.”

 

Dorothy flinched under her boss’s glare--well, she always glared, even when she was supposedly in a good mood. But now all her glare was concentrated at her. Which was never fun.

 

“I don’t know what to tell you. It was raining.”

 

“It was _raining._ Well Miss Castlemore, we have three other couriers that made deliveries yesterday. And how many of them were late?”

 

Dorothy didn’t answer, scuffing her converse against the floor.

 

“That wasn’t rhetorical.”

 

“None of them,” Dorothy mumbled.

 

“What was that?”

 

“None of them,” Dorothy said, louder. Treville crossed her arms.

 

“That is correct. _None_ of them. When you are late, many times customers refuse to pay. When customers refuse to pay we, quite obviously, lose money. I cannot keep losing money because of you, Miss Castlemore. Your friend may be the cousin of my superior, but that only goes so far.”

 

“Look, I’m sorry. But I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks?”

 

“And have not been on time once.”

 

“Just give me _one more chance._ I’m kind of desperate for a job. If I end up on the street living in a cardboard box, it’ll be on your conscience. Wouldn’t want that, right?”

 

She smiled sheepishly at Treville, who sighed.

 

“I will give you one more chance,” she said, running a hand down her face, “if you are late _one more time,_ I will not be entertaining the possibility of another. Do you understand?”

 

“Totally, I will not let you--”

 

“This client happens to have ordered from us before,” she continued, “Alex Silleg, and she is _extremely_ picky about lateness. She will absolutely refuse to pay if you are even a minute after when you were supposed to be. There is no room for error here.”

 

Dorothy nodded silently.

 

“Good. You have an hour to make your delivery at 556 Dumas Street.”

 

Dorothy jaw dropped. _“Dumas_ Street? But that’s like, the other side of the city! In morning rush traffic!”

 

“Not my problem,” Treville said primly, “get yourself ready.”

 

“But--”

 

She turned on her heel and disappeared into her back office.

 

Dorothy blew a strand of dark hair out of her face (seriously, she turned so sharply there was a _wind_ ) before running to grab her bike.

* * *

 

Stupid Treville only wanted to get her fired. She could have given the job to Connie, who always knew all the best routes. Or Portia, who could talk a customer into paying no matter how late she was; she knew for a fact that her ‘spotless’ record wasn’t spotless. Ariana bragged about it enough over drinks while Portia shrugged humbly.

 

No, Treville only wanted her to get fired. Fine. She would _show her._ This Alex lady wanted her flowers on time? She was going to deliver her damn flowers on time.

 

Except...Dorothy was kind of totally uncoordinated and not that good at bike riding. Her roommate got her the job when Dorothy was getting kind of desperate for money--partially because she was a good friend, partially because she wanted Dorothy to, y’know, pay rent--and she got hired without a real interview. Which, Dorothy had to admit, was probably a bad decision on All for Flowers Deliveries’ part.

 

But, with flowers sitting on the back of her bike, Dorothy was determined to keep this job. And she knew just how to do it; she was going to cut through Central Park. It’d cut her time in half, and if she cut it in half, it’d be tight. But she would definitely make it.

 

It was a bike without gears, and Dorothy pumped her legs, leaning forward, weaving in and out of traffic awkwardly. She really wasn’t very good at riding a bike.

 

“Come on...come on…”

 

She crossed the street, hitting the smooth stone pathway of the park. Dorothy fist pumped, then wobbled as she tried to regain her balance. The park was mostly clear of other riders at the moment, and she was making good time. With any luck she’d be on Dumas in twenty, thirty minutes at the most.

 

“YES! I am totally going to make it! DOROTHY CASTLEMORE CAN--”

 

...And that’s when a dog decided to run right in the middle of the path, chasing a rubber ball someone had thrown.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

 

She had to swerve out of the way to avoid the Jack Russell terrier and little kid that was following him. Dorothy ended up slamming into a tree, flowers spilling out all over the ground.

 

Dorothy struggled to her feet. The little girl walked over to her, puppy trotting at her heels.

 

“Sorry ma’am,” she said, holding up a flower stem. Dorothy forced a smile and took it.

 

“Thanks, kid. Where’s your mom? Or dad?”

 

“Dunno. I was running after Fido and now I don’t know where she is.”

 

Dorothy frowned. Great. Well, this would take two seconds--

 

“Fido, _come back!”_

 

“Wait, _what?_ GET BACK HERE!”

 

The little puppy grabbed a stem, bounding off with one of the flowers. The client ordered six flowers. She _needed_ that flower. Dorothy ran after him, the little girl following behind.

 

In a final fit of desperation, Dorothy made a mad leap, managing to grab Fido by the back legs. The dog yelped and dropped the stem.

 

Tackling a puppy. So. That happened.

 

“ _What_ are you doing to my child’s dog--Emily, where have you been?”

 

“Mama! We made this lady hit a tree?”

 

She scooped Emily into her arms, glaring at Dorothy. Dorothy swallowed and, after grabbing the sunflower in her hand, decided to just walk away looking reasonably bad about the whole thing.

 

That cut into her time. She’d have to book it--

 

Wait.

 

She was pretty sure her bike was here. In fact it must have been; the flowers were scattered around the ground. But...no bike.

 

Someone. _Stole. HER BIKE._

 

“Oh my _God,_ WHO TOOK MY BIKE?”

 

She spun in a circle, daring someone to come forward. Instead they all stared and gave her a wide berth.

 

She couldn’t be late. She checked her watch; nope, she had like no time. Certainly not enough to go look for her bike. She hadn’t brought her wallet, so no cab.

 

Only one more thing to do. With her head pounding and pain from the crash she was trying really, really hard to ignore, Dorothy scooped up the rest of the flowers.

 

Taking a deep breath, she sprinted.

* * *

 

Dorothy never did that well in gym class. She was not in what one would call ‘peak physical condition.’

 

And when she got to the apartment complex on Dumas, the customer’s apartment was on the top floor.

 

And the elevator was out of order.

 

By the time she managed to get to the right apartment, she was right on the edge of passing out. Her legs were practically numb.

 

Dorothy knocked on the door.

 

“...Hello?” A voice called from inside.

 

“All...for Flowers...Delivery Service,” Dorothy managed to get out.

 

She heard the sound of footsteps. “You are forty-five minutes late.”

 

“I know, but I am here now--”

 

“I am not paying for a delivery that is almost an hour late.”

 

Dorothy didn’t want to lose her temper. She really didn’t. But it was hard not to given the situation, so she did.

 

“Okay, _listen_ lady,” Dorothy wheezed out, “I crashed my bike into a tree. I tackled a terrier. I freaking _ran_ across half the _city_ to make this sale, and I’ll probably get fired anyway because my _bike was stolen._ So here is how it is going to work. You are going to _buy these damn flowers,_ or I will _fight you._ ”

 

For a moment the customer didn’t say anything. Then the door opened slightly. Dorothy could make out one brown eye, dark skin, and a few curly black ringlets.

 

She took in Dorothy’s messed up hair, her ripped shirt, the scrapes on her knees, the twigs in her hair, and the the arm she had braced against the wall for support as she wheezed slightly.

 

She opened the door wider.

 

“Oh my God, you look like you ran between two cheese graters.”

 

“It was a tree,” Dorothy clarified, “and I tripped a few times running here.”

 

She bit her lip. Finally, she said, “come in and bring the flowers.”

 

“Come in?”

 

“You look awful,” Alex said, “you look like you almost _died_ on the way over here. So yeah. Come in.”

 

Dorothy walked into the apartment.

 

“Put the flowers on the table,” Alex said.

 

She followed her instructions.

 

“Please don’t sit on the couch, I don’t want you to get blood on the carpet.”

 

Dorothy sat at the kitchen table. Alex walked past her.

 

“Wait here.”

 

She said it so matter-of-factly, Dorothy didn’t argue. Besides, she really needed to rest her legs.

 

Alex walked back in with a mirror, an ice pack, band-aids, and peroxide.

 

“Okay, here,” she said, handing her the ice pack.

 

“God, thanks, my head is killing me,” Dorothy answered. Alex frowned.

 

“It’s for your eye.”

 

“Why my--”

 

Alex answered by holding up the mirror; Dorothy groaned. Her eye was starting to swell. And she really did look like someone cheese grated her face. She pressed the ice pack to her face.

“Oh my _God,_ I have a black eye. I am not going to live this down anytime soon.”

 

Alex smiled sympathetically, bending down to work on applying neosporin to the cuts on her legs. “Seriously, how did you run into a _tree?_ And uh, something about tackling a puppy…?”

 

“I tried to cut through Central Park to get here faster,” Dorothy said, wincing at the stinging sensation of the peroxide. Alex nodded, gently placing a bandaid on the cuts.

 

“Well, the important thing is you’re not dead. And you ran all the way over here? That definitely takes dedication.”

 

“Or desperation not to get fired,” Dorothy grumbled.

 

“Either way, I guess thanks for getting them here.”

 

“My boss said you’re a regular client. Why do you always order sunflowers?”

 

Alex stood up, shrugging. “I don’t know, I just like them? I put them in a vase. I’m a columnist for an online magazine so I spend a lot of time in my house, writing...I don’t know, it just brightens everything up a little.”

 

Dorothy nodded. “That’s cool, I guess.”

 

“Want some water?”

 

“God, please, my lungs still kind of feel like they’re going to explode.”

 

Alex grabbed a bottle from the kitchen.

 

“Okay, I’m going to do the cuts on the face now, okay?”

 

“You’re being really nice to a random stranger who admits she tackled a puppy,” Dorothy said, taking a sip of the water, putting it back on the table.

 

“You’re...interesting,” Alex admitted, “and I don’t know, you did it for _me,_ sort of, so I feel bad? My friends all call me the mom friend anyway.”

 

“Huh. Interesting. I’ve never been called ‘interesting before’.”

 

She leaned in, gently dabbing at Dorothy’s face. Dorothy swallowed, avoiding her eyes.

 

“Who wouldn’t find this interesting?” Alex answered, “it’s not every day your delivery person has to sprint across the city after they get their bike stolen.”

 

“If you think about it, it _is_ pretty heroic,” Dorothy answered.

 

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use. Didn’t you call it desperation?”

 

Dorothy deflated again. “It’s not like it matters. My ass is fired.”

 

Alex pulled back from Dorothy and gave her a gentle touch on the shoulder. “I’ll pay for the delivery,” Alex said, “you’ve had a bad enough day.”

 

“I lost a bike. I don’t think it’s the money on the delivery they’ll be afraid of losing.”

 

She sighed heavily. “Thanks for everything. Alex, right?”

 

“Yeah. Alex Silleg. You?”

 

“Dorothy Castlemore.”

 

Alex bit her lip. “Let me grab my checkbook, okay?”

 

“Sure.”

 

She watched Alex walk out. Well. At least she met someone nice after all of that. Nice and cute. Not that she’d probably ever see her again, but still...

 

“Here is the check for the delivery,” Alex said, handing her the check. Dorothy got up and nodded.

 

“Thanks,” she said, “have a good day--”

 

“Wait,” Alex said, “you forgot your tip.”

 

“My...tip…?”

 

Alex reached into her wallet, pulling out several bills.

“I’ve been saving this money for a rainy day,” Alex said, “it might not be, but you seem like you need it.”

 

Dorothy almost fainted. “This is, like, _four hundred_ dollars.”

 

“Buy a new bike,” Alex answered, “seriously.”

 

“I--I can’t take-- _wow_ \--”

 

“Take it,” Alex said firmly, “you can use some of it for a cab back.”

 

Still too shocked to use any tact--she wasn’t good at it anyway--Dorothy blurted out, “wow, are you trying to buy a date?”

 

It was meant to be a joke. But as soon as Dorothy said it she realized it really wasn’t that funny. “Er...I mean…”

 

Alex shook her head. “If I was interested, I’ll let you know,” she answered, “you should probably get back.”

 

With check and money in hand, Dorothy stumbled out of the apartment.

* * *

 

“Dorothy made the delivery and she got the money,” Connie said, “you have no reason to fire her.”

 

“She had her bike _stolen--”_

 

“Yeah, and bought a new one with her own money,” Ariana pointed out, “come on, no harm no foul, right?”

 

“That’s completely right!” Portia exclaimed.

 

Dorothy stood behind them, using her coworkers as a shield against the wrath of her boss. They had all been working at All for Flowers long enough that they could afford to stand up to her. Treville frowned.

 

“I’m still not exactly happy with your performance, Miss Castlemore.”

“But I did give a hell of a performance,” Dorothy answered, “right?”

 

Ariana held up her hand for a high five. Treville’s glare stopped Dorothy from taking her up on the offer.

 

“...I am a woman of my word,” she finally said, “you are still an employee here, _for now,_ but you are still on thin ice-- _very_ thin ice.”

 

“I understand,” she answered.

 

“Good.”

 

She disappeared into her office again.

 

“...Wow, I feel like she only leaves when she’s telling one of us off,” Ariana said.

 

“Thank you guys,” Dorothy said, “seriously, I was terrified I’d be fired.”

 

“Of course we were going to stick up for you!” Portia said, “you’ve had a tough enough day already.”

 

“Yeah, it was a pretty hilarious story,” Ariana said, eliciting an elbowing from Portia.

  
“It was nice that the customer was so understanding,” Connie added, “if you want me to pick up the rent for this month so you can make up paying for a new bike, you can.”

 

“Um...actually…” Dorothy rubbed her neck, “the customer, Alex? She kind of...paid it for me?”

 

They all stared at her.

 

Ariana broke the silence with a wolf whistle. “ _Damn,_ Castlemore, how’d you seduce four hundred dollars out of a chick you just met? _With_ a black eye?”

 

“I didn’t _seduce_ her. Like, the opposite of seducing. I bled on her kitchen floor and made a really bad joke. She probably just felt sorry for me--”

 

“Sorry is a sympathetic handshake,” Ariana answered, “not four hundred bucks.”

 

“Maybe she thought you were sweet?” Portia asked.

“I told her I chased a puppy across the park. I threatened to fight her if she didn’t pay.”

 

“That _is_ kind of cute when you do it, Dorothy, no offense,” Connie answered, smiling softly at her.

 

“Shut up. It’s not like I’m going to see her again anyway. And even if I do, I’m not going to crash into a tree.”

 

“Will you take bets on that?” Ariana asked with a smirk.

 

“ _Shut up.”_

 

The phone rang; Treville left her office to answer.

 

“All for Flowers Delivery Service, how may I help you...oh, Miss Silleg, hello, another order? Mm-hm. Who would you like…? Really. Huh. Well. We can certainly do that if you’d like. Of course.”

 

She hung up the phone, looking at Dorothy. “Miss Silleg said that one of her stems have...teeth marks.”

 

Dorothy sucked in a breath. “Well--”

 

“She said it was fine,” she continued, “but she’d like more.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I can go,” Portia said, raising her hand, “I have to leave for a delivery soon and Dumas Street is on the way--”

 

“No,” Treville answered, “it seems that she specifically wants _you_ to make the delivery, Miss Castlemore.”

 

“ _Me?”_

 

“Apparently. I agree that it is quite the mystery. But the customer is always right.”

 

Connie, Ariana, and Portia all stared at Dorothy when Treville left.

 

“ _Dude.”_

 

“I knew she liked you, Dorothy!”

 

“You need to write a book,” Connie finished.

 

Dorothy had no idea what to say. “I--I have no idea how to react to this.”

 

“ _Get it,_ Castlemore!” Ariana exclaimed.

 

“I can’t _get it_ if I can’t _get there._ I haven’t bought a bike yet--”

 

“Take mine,” Connie answered.

 

“Are you sure--”

 

“To get you laid? Of course she’s sure!”

 

“Ria, that’s a little too much, don’t you think?”

 

Ariana rolled her eyes.

 

Dorothy met a cute girl looking like an absolute mess.

 

Said girl, miraculously, wanted to see her again. For some reason. After she had to douse her in peroxide and ice her black eye.

 

This was absolutely insane.

 

Dorothy didn’t even care.

 

Connie was right; she thanked her, mentally going over what she was going to title her book as she ran to find her bike.

  
  



End file.
